


The Magic Of Dance

by deathisaparty (crystalemerson)



Category: Palaye Royale (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballerina!Remington, Ballet, Ballet Dancer Remington Leith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28754160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalemerson/pseuds/deathisaparty
Summary: A little ballet oneshot I've had running around my head for a while.
Kudos: 6





	The Magic Of Dance

The stage lights bounced off Remington's face as he stood in the shadows in the wings. Gentle butterflies nudged the insides of his stomach, but he welcomed them. It was normal to be a little nervous, although he remembered a time when the nerves took the form of a swarming cloud of hornets, instead of these butterflies.

He could see the dancers before him finishing their piece. He knew that choreography; a few years earlier, he had danced the same routine. It was a dance which accomplished dancers would learn. But he had long since passed the stage of merely 'accomplished'.

He was Remington Leith; one of the most well-known and talented ballet dancers the world had ever seen. He had won countless awards, and tickets to his performances were usually more difficult to obtain than an audience with the Queen Of England. And that was saying something, because he'd had one of them too.

And yet, he never did a single show without feeling just a tiny bit nervous. He smiled wryly. After all these years, the butterflies still plagued him. But that was okay: he had grown fond of their fluttering. It reminded him that under the awards and the fame and the costumes and the make-up, he was still just a human.

The dancers onstage were taking their bows now, and he breathed in, and then out, drawing up his body into a practised posture as he did so. The pair of dancers walked off the stage as the lights went out, and Remington walked out gracefully to stand in the centre. He readied himself and got into the familiar starting position; it was one he had practised many times when he had choreographed this routine.

A single spotlight fell on him, illuminating him. He was on his knees, head bowed. Dressed in plain black, he was the spitting image of how he looked when he first started to dance: upset with his poor skills and not committed enough to buy proper costumes for performances. Aged four, he had not thought he would ever be as good as the other children.

The orchestra began to play. He stood up slowly, and performed some of the most basic moves; a small pirouette here, a plié there.

Gradually, his moves became more complex, until he was taking flying leaps across the stage, light bouncing off his supple body as he captivated the audience, taking them on his journey of dance. As the music came to a crescendo, he reached behind him and took the edges of two pieces of material on his costume in his hands and brought them above his head.

The hidden material revealed magnificent, iridescent wings, which he displayed. Then, he continued to dance, incorporating the wings into the remaining routine.

When he finished, the audience gave him a standing ovation. He smiled and looked into the crowd, to spot his brothers in the front row. He felt a swell of love for them: they had made him carry on when he wanted to quit; they had come to every show they could get to; they had paid for his tuition with their own money when their mother had fallen on hard times, not telling him until afterwards so he wouldn't feel bad; they had even helped him make it here, to the Royal Opera House, in time, as he had got lost in London.

And while the crowd applauded and some threw roses in his direction, as was the norm at ballets, Emerson and Sebastian were being unconventional as always, yelling, "Fuck yeah! We fucking love you Remington!", causing surrounding people to stare, and making him struggle not to laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.  
> Love the void x


End file.
